It has been a while since I last updated, so I'm sorry for the long wait -to anyone who is still following. The past year was eventful and not all of it was great, but I didn't disappear for good. I'm back with more sweet Luka and Marinette goodness for those of us who continue to be fans of this ship to enjoy and I will try my best with my work schedule to keep on writing in my spare time so uploads might hopefully occur more often. That said, this is basically a sweet piece of fluff written for anyone who has ever had a terrible job -the sort of job that makes you die a little inside by the end of each day- and struggled to reach out for the comfort you desperately wanted. In keeping with the song theme, it is set to "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter. I hope this chapter finds you all well. As usual, please enjoy if it is your thing and enjoy something else instead if it isn't. Thanks for following!
We all have moments in life that bring us to question every choice we've ever made leading up to the situation we find ourselves in. For a certain blue-haired aspiring fashion designer, that moment had been at about 11:30 this morning. To have extra cash on hand while in university, she had taken a part-time job at an animal shelter. From day one, it was obvious this would not be the cuddling-animals-all-day type of work most people think of it as. Straight out of the gate, the grueling physical work, emotional burn out and long hours made that fact perfectly clear.
Days are long and work weeks are even longer. You start your day with a rigorous cleaning routine- meticulously scrubbing, rinsing and sanitizing the walls, floors and bars of each enclosure- after feeding all the animals. Dishes and laundry follow soon thereafter. Soon, the time arrives when the shelter opens to the public for the day and all of the meet and greets with families begin. Few people thank you for anything and the vast majority treat you as if you are the enemy. It wouldn't be unusual to hear a question like "how many animals did you kill today?" during a meet and greet with a potential adoptive family. It's even more common to get told what a bad person you are for even considering working in a place where such a thing happens.
It certainly doesn't help matters that there are favorite employees, beyond retribution and ridicule -who never have to answer for their laziness and apathy. It seems these people spend all day goofing off in some part of the shelter, contributing nothing to the organization while somehow still garnering the approval of the managers and team leads. Almost a separate issue entirely, the enablers of these slackers, the bosses who let this behavior slide for one reason or another- well, they desperately need addressing as well. While they use their authority to protect the non-contributors, they treat anyone who reports poor work ethic and lack of contribution as if they are crazy for even doing so.
On the subject of fellow employees, don't even bring up the fact that there are those in the highest positions of authority within the organization who care nothing for the animals they are supposed to protect. They treat the people below them as nothing but dirt beneath their feet and the animals they are supposed to care for as merchandise to be moved like stock on the shelves of grocery stores. Numbers in a great game of sums and losses for the company. A sickening thought, even for someone only a part of it all on a temporary basis. One could say that in it's own way, every day contains a uniquely shitty property. There is something to dislike about this place for every single day of the year and beyond. But it truly is days like today that make her remember why the viral videos of people rage quitting their jobs were so popular.
With all of this in mind, a dreary Friday morning began. Well, 'Friday' in the sense that her work week would be over and tomorrow is the first day of her 'weekend.' Because this is the type of job in which actual weekends really are meaningless. A part-time work week is any three days strung together in a row during the seven day week.
After clocking in, the very first thing that she had the pleasure of dealing with was being called to her manager's office. What awaited her? Why, a reprimand from her boss for not being able to finish all the dirty dishes from the day before. Though she tried to explain that no one else had helped her and that there had been many meet and greets and dog meets the previous afternoon, she was dismissed as lazy and told that if she didn't step it up, she'd be facing a more formal type of discipline.
Feeling somewhat discouraged, she left the meeting with the manager. It hurt to be told this when she put in her best effort every day, but determined still to prove she was worthy, she refused to resign herself to criticism. After she shook off the disappointment and anger, the young woman began her work for the day -taking care of the dogs and cleaning the areas where they were housed.
Before she could even think about starting her area, one of her coworkers approached her, telling her that they were needed to help elsewhere and would not be able to feed their assigned area. This person was notorious for saying they had something to do but would pick up their slack later and then never returning to finish their work. That much she knew. But she also knew that if she said anything, it would fall of deaf ears, or worse, land her in more trouble. This was, after all, one of the favorites. And, she had to face the facts, there was just no doing anything about the behavior of a favorite employee, no matter how bad. It had been going on for enough months that she knew better. So, she would grin and bear it. Even as frustrating as it was to be forced into doing someone else's share of the work on a nearly routine basis.
After finishing the feeding in her own area, she headed to the coworker's designated area and set about making sure each dog got fed the diet to the specifications of the clinical staff, who took care of the animal's medical needs. Indulging herself for a second or two, she paused to visit with a young shepherd mix awaiting her behavioral evaluation, and, with the task completed, promptly returned to her assigned area. Though set back about 20 minutes, the determined young woman knew she could still make it work if she hurried.
After moving each dog to the back of it's run and closing them off, the dismantling of each kennel -including removal of bedding and bowls- then began. With the bucket of soiled bedding wheeled to the laundry room, the supplies needed readying. The canister of soap which attached to the end of the hose already awaited her at the end of the long row of enclosures. With everything finally in place, she made her way over to the soap, only to meet resistance from the equipment in the form of the hose kinking. This was an annoyance that occurred in such frequency, the poor girl could no longer discern if she was angry or not. Giving the heavy rubber material a shake to undo the obstacle seemed like the fastest resolution. She knew a mistake had been made when the rough substance swiftly made contact with the side of her face. With the sharp clapping sound it made, it would be hard not to believe there would later be a bruise forming in the accosted area.
About 15 minutes later, while rinsing the kennels on the opposite row, the young woman slipped on the wet floor and careened forward and toward the ground, losing her grip on and dropping the hose, which then landed on the trigger. Because why in the hell not. Her knees connected harshly with the rough ground, both of them now skinned and likely also bruised. A blast of icy water startled her for but a moment before the only thought her brain could supply was 'of course this would happen.' Really, why would it not have landed in the perfect position and with just enough force to continuously assault her with a torrent of ice-cold water? Clambering around on the wet floor for a way to make the unwanted shower cease, she silently rued the day she ever decided to buy a pair of so-called non-slip shoes at the local retail chain store.
After finally finishing up in her area and putting away all the cleaning supplies, she was delighted to look at her watch and find she had enough time left to go and work though some dishes and laundry. Stepping into the prep area, she set about working her way through the giant stack of dishes -a significant sum remaining from the day before when there had been no time and no help to get through them. While in the middle of this, the same employee from earlier popped their head in to tell her once again that they are needed to help in another department. Of course, it would logically follow that they have not yet finished cleaning their area and would need her to 'help' them until they got back from this other pressing task they must attend to. How very convenient for them to always be required to help else ware when the hardest work of the day was in full swing.
All the more frustrated with the extra work being piled on and aware that this might earn her another time management lecture, she made her way back to the same area she had fed for this person earlier. 'Not quite finished my ass,' The young blue-haired woman thought bitterly to herself, 'more like barely even started.' A surge of white-hot anger rushed through her as she looked around to see that all this coworker had managed to do is move a few of the dogs out of the dirty kennels. None of the soiled bedding or bowls had been removed, none of the waste picked up, none of the supplies readied to begin the cleaning process. Honestly, she had no idea why she was even angry anymore. This was basically this coworker's M.O. at this point. The exhausting progression of beginning her day, getting pulled away to feed and clean another area on top of hers and then being chewed out by the boss was almost to be expected. When was the last time this lazy jerk completed all of their tasks without excuses being made? When was the last day she wasn't reprimanded for being not good enough at doing both her job and a fellow employee's?
After taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she busied herself with the cleaning, knowing that it wouldn't get done if she didn't do it and that inevitably it would somehow still be her fault if incomplete. Something about not be a team player, wouldn't it be? While she finished up her last row, who should happen to walk by the area she'd taken up responsibility for but the same boss who had given her an earful earlier that morning. Witnessing the accusatory expression flood the older woman's face lit a fire of rage that coursed through every muscle, bone and fiber of her being. More that just a little miffed, the woman shoved the door open, then stalked toward her as she rinsed out a kennel.
"How can you still be cleaning? There's a huge pile of dirty dishes still in your area from yesterday! The laundry is piling up too! Why haven't you started on any of that work yet?" The woman demanded, not even giving Marinette a chance to open her mouth and explain before then launching into the fully-expected lecture about time management. When the bluenette finally managed to get a word of self-defense in edge-wise, she was quickly cut off and told to meet the manager in her office again when the cleaning was completed.
After another lengthy discussion, where she finally got the chance to explain her position only because her manager's boss was also present, she went to lunch, already emotionally checked out for the day. And so there she was at 11:30, sitting alone in the break room, examining every life choice she'd made, trying to determine where exactly it all went wrong. Appetite all but gone, the aspiring fashion designer slumped down in her chair in the lunch room, shuffling the leftover pasta from last night around on her plate with little interest. Following the lunch she barely ate, the rest of the day was hardly any easier. The afternoon was a bland mixture of dishes, laundry, meet and greets full of frustrating questions and dog meets where people with dogs clearly couldn't understand their own animal's body language. Naturally, her co worker was nowhere to be found the majority of this time either.
Climbing wearily into the driver's seat of her car was the only respite to be found within her day. In the silence of her small sedan on the twenty minute drive home her feelings seem to wage war on one another. Giving in and feeling sad is what this bully of a person wants. She'd be playing into their hand if she allows herself to break down. However, with no real way out other than to quit and no help coming from the people who could stop all this in an instant if they possessed one ounce of empathy, it's hard to continue stamping down the overwhelming grief she is experiencing any longer.
With these thoughts and the details of her day swirling in her mind like a kaleidoscope, she pulls the car into her space in her parking garage, exhausted, filthy and feeling thoroughly bested. In a temporary lapse of judgement, one hand stretches down toward her knee and fingernails dig into the rough scrape. Wincing at the flash of pain that comes with her small blunder, she yanks hand away and shoves it into her pocket. Heaving a sigh, she presses the button on the wall and waits impatiently for the elevator to reach the below-ground parking garage. Her soiled blue scrubs are still wet and clinging uncomfortably to her body from being stuck in a dog meet outside in the pouring rain at the end of the night. Her tied back hair drips water down the back of her neck. Her skinned knees sting and itch as the elevator doors slide open and she steps inside.
After what feels like a thousand eternities, she finally stands before her front door, never happier to see a plank of polished cedar in all her days. Pulling out her smartphone and opening the app, the latch clicks open and she steps inside. Wearily she stands in the foyer for a moment, still trying her very best to put the details of the day in a little box in her mind to come back to later. A futile exercise that only leads to more intense feelings of irritation. Angrily, she kicks her shoes off, sending each sopping sneaker flying into the wall and falling into the plastic tray she would usually have just set them in. A little catharsis through venting your pent up frustration never hurt anyone, right?
A small meow sounds from the area near her feet and she looks down to see Tikki, her Snowshoe mix sitting on the other side of the baby gate. Her loud purr reverberates through the hallway as the small creature stretches and bunts against the plastic division. No longer able to stop a small grin from disrupting her unpleasant memories of the day, she begins removing her scrubs, depositing the soiled articles into the hamper she'd placed in the hallway this morning.
Hoisting the laundry basket up over the baby gate, she allows herself passage to the rest of the hallway leading to her living room with her cat hot on her heels. Carrying the hamper to her laundry room and starting a load with the contents of the heavy container, she hears her phone ping to indicate a message and absently walks back, leaning down over the gate and snatching the bag from the floor. Another long cry of protest at not yet having received a meal echoes down the hallway. Ignoring the small animal for but a moment, she taps the button to view her screen and is delighted to find a notification from the one person who might be able to -if only momentarily- completely obliterate her dour mood. A weak smile ghosts over her features for a moment before she remembers she is in desperate need of a shower and some wound-dressing.
Gingerly trekking down the hall to her bathroom, the battered girl searches through the cabinets in her bathroom. Finding her treasure near the back of the second drawer, she retrieves the box of band-aids, alcohol and Neosporin, then sets them all aside for after her shower. Stripping away the remainder of her clothing, she hops in the shower turns on the hot water, finding herself sinking down into a sitting position on the floor. The stinging of the open wounds on her legs seem to suddenly pale in comparison to the comfort the hot water provides to her aching muscles. Wanting to extend the time spent in this one place she's been able to find any mild relief from her aches and pains all day, Marinette lingers longer than she usually would.
Drying off and stepping out wrapped up in a towel, she takes a seat on her toilet and begins dressing the matching wounds adorning both kneecaps. Her pajamas hang on the back of the door, still fresh and clean from when she'd washed them yesterday evening and she slips into the soft clothing when the scrapes and gashes have all been addressed. After discarding the used alcohol pads and bandage rappers in the trash under her sink, she finally takes a glance at the context of his message.
(Luka 7:02pm- Are you home yet?)
(Marinette 7:25pm- Yeah, at last.)
A small pinch to her ankle snaps her out of the momentary reprieve from the day's unrelenting series of struggles. Knowing her cat well, she glances down to see Tikki going back in for another pointed bite to her foot and moves away just in time to avoid her scolding for being late with dinner. If only this cat understood it isn't always about her.
"Okay cat, you don't have to be rude, I was getting there." She chides the small creature who then looks up at her with another small chirp of a noise and turns around to lead her owner toward the cabinet as if Marinette doesn't know where the food is stored. Following the cat to the kitchen, opening the cupboard and measuring out the usual amount Tikki gets at night, peace is restored once more within the household. As Tikki munches happily on her kibble, sated, the tired woman makes her way to the living room. Sinking back onto the couch, a smile ghosts over her features once again when she reads the next message.
(Luka 7:26pm- How was your day?)
(Marinette 7:26pm- It was a day.)
Aware her pointed response will give her away, draws her legs up under her body waits quietly on the sofa. It is not a long-awaited reply.
(Luka 7:27pm: Uh-oh. Safe to assume that means it sucked? Idiot boss troubles again?)
He always has been so adept at reading into the little intricacies of her behavior. She's always marveled at this inexplicable capability of his to intuit her feelings. Even to this day, it remains a mystery. What's more, he somehow usually knows the right way to respond, even at times when she had no clue how she felt. Would this be a time to allow her space to gather her thoughts? Would he need to step in and offer reassurances? Has it ever even been guess work for him? Sometimes she truly believes he can read her mind and as someone who has difficulty expressing her issues to others, it is very much an appreciated trait.
At any rate, it's easy enough to tell he's in the "I'll be your shoulder to cry on" kind of mindset tonight given that sweet and openly curious response. He's inviting discourse. Opening a discussion. Creating an opportunity for her to speak her mind, seek comfort or even simply for her to complain. It's hardly the first time he's tried, though she's always brushed it off as him babying her in the past. 'Come on now, it's just a crappy day'. 'Everyone has those. No need to treat me like I'm fragile and going to break over every little thing.' She remembers using those types of dismissive phrases in the past to avoid a discussion she thought she didn't need or want. After today though, something's different. Something about the overarching theme of this day -that being way too much effort for no pay off- has her too exhausted to make her usual excuses. Even as she smiles, Marinette begins to feel the lump form in her throat and the tears sting at her eyes. Is his kindness simply too difficult to emotionally interpret after the frustration and disappointment of her day? Is the thought that someone wishes to show their support too overwhelming? Is she finally just cracking under the weight of the pressure put on her shoulders by this job and its many, many obstacles? Or could it be that she's more used to handling those who don't treat her with kindness or compassion than those who do? Is she just being childish after all? 'It could be some screwed up combination of all those things.' Her inner monologue offers as she hears another ping from her phone.
(Marinette 7:30 pm: Yeah, I guess.)
Before she can even think, the words 'Luka is typing…" appear in the bottom of her chat window, bringing another appreciative smile to her lips. The tears keep right on stinging at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. He's the one person that has never failed to show her the empathy others lack, even when it seems as though the rest of the people in her world are completely apathetic. And at the end of a day like today, in a job like this one, it's easy to lose oneself in the feeling of being cared for this way.
(Luka 7:31pm: Is it cool if I come over?)
She takes a moment to ponder this, unsure if she wants to share her vulnerability with anyone or not. Texting is one thing, but meeting face to face is another matter entirely. It's always been a weakness of hers -this being unable to or unwilling to open herself up to possible scrutiny from others. Two sides of her mind are instantly at odds with one another. There is a part of her that wants to shut down entirely, closing herself off from everything and everyone until the sour feelings can be dulled and repressed. Yet, though it is extremely tempting to turn inward, the part of her that is simply too exhausted to continue putting up a front finds the companionship very appealing, and ultimately wins this brief battle.
(Marinette 7:34pm: Yes. Please do.)
She knows that Luka has the app on his phone with the code to unlock her front door on his own, so she heads into the kitchen and grabs her favorite flavor of loose-leaf and heats up some water on the stove while waiting for him to arrive. As soon as the water hits a boil she turns off the burner and pours the hot liquid into her single-serving steeping cup, where she already has loose-leaf blueberry tea and rock sugar waiting.
Three minutes pass and then she places the container on top of her mug, the freshly mixed tea slowly draining into the cup. As she sits down at her dining table and blows on the hot drink, she hears the distinct sound of the locking mechanism in the door being turned over. The young man calls out a greeting as he shuts the front door and the baby gate behind himself and she finds herself suddenly freezing up. Even after he's shown himself to not care about such things, she still doesn't want to be perceived as weak. Especially not by him. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Without making any pointless small talk, Luka sets about making himself a cup of tea, less out of any desire or need for a drink, and mostly just to keep himself busy while giving Marinette space to calm down. By now, he knows her well enough that the way she seems to recoil as he enters the kitchen tells him that she is not entirely ready to open up, even if she had been inclined to keep his company tonight. It didn't take long after she'd begun working this new job to notice how discontent she'd become. He'd lived his whole life with an inborn talent for reading people and he readily used it to try and help her on numerous occasions, up to now, with no success. While he'd love nothing more than to walk right up to her and pull her into a fierce hug, he knows it is very unlikely to be well received and may in fact, only inflame current issues. No need to do anything that might heighten her anxiety, especially not when she's finally allowed him to be present when she's at her most vulnerable. Having remained in contact since they were teenagers and watching her go through a number of struggles, he has only ever wished for her happiness and is still willing to do whatever helps her remain happy. It is a sentiment that has never faded away or dulled over time. Leaning his back against the counter, the musician sets his eyes briefly on the plastic container that steeps his beverage before allowing his eyes to wonder in the direction of his companion. Though patience is a virtue and space is clearly still called for, a little glance won't hurt anything.
His heart sinks a little at the utterly defeated body language she tries desperately hide- the subtle slump to her shoulders, the knot in her brow, the downturn of her lip that she attempts to disguise by taking a few long sips from her mug. His eyes linger on a fresh and angry bruise that now adorns her right cheek, no doubt another casualty of her obviously rough day. 'Rough in more ways than one,' His brain supplies this unwelcome tidbit, 'If I didn't know better, I'd think someone assaults her every day.' Her blue bell eyes, normally vibrant, are dull and distant, rounding out her downcast face. Her jaw is set in a firm line, almost as if she is too numb to decide if being angry or sad is more appropriate.
This look she wears now…it can't be the result of a single bad day. How can it be? He's never seen someone trying with such desperation to fight off such obvious and overwhelming exhaustion. Emotional, mental, physical? From where he stands it certainly appears to be all three. Still, the only one here who knows the answer to that is sitting in front of him in silence. Just how deep does the frustration and sorrow in her expression and manner run? No clear answers to be found as long as she is unwilling to share them with him. One thing, though, is stunningly clearer by the second. Waiting her out may not be the right tactic after all. Each second that passes the woman before him appears more closed off, more unwilling to open herself up. As much as he does not want her to feel like she's being backed into a corner or forced to talk to him, if she won't take this step on her own, then he will have to give her the push she needs.
Both unable and unwilling to initiate this dialogue, she remains silent, avoiding raising her eyes to meet his gaze. As her equally silent companion opens the cupboard and chooses a mug, the girl wrestles with the why in this equation. Why is it she finds herself hesitating to speak after inviting him to come over? When it comes down to it, the story she wants to tell is rather simple. The words she wants to use are right on her tongue. She knows he'll never tell her not to speak her mind. Luka has never been anything if not supportive. The anger and frustration she feels are almost palpable within the air of her kitchen. So why can't she bring herself to say anything? Has she spent so long interacting in such a calculating way that it's difficult to simply be authentic with someone? Though she invited him here of her own will and she surely doesn't want him to leave, she can't give voice to her feelings as she thought she had wanted to before.
"Marinette…" Suddenly in a chair beside her, Luka's soft voice startles her from her daze. For a split second her startled eyes find his -two blue orbs that exude determination- and that split second of seeing his resolve begins to melt her frozen emotions. Before her eyes fall back to her lap, her fear begins to slowly erode. Whatever anxieties she harbored about this interaction seem to gradually fade from existence. "You can talk to me, if you need to. I'll listen. I want to know you're okay."
Strength of will now gone all together, Marinette releases her hold on her mug of tea, abandoning it where she had been resting her arm on the tabletop. Hands dropping into her lap as she allows herself to shift forward, her forehead falls softly against his right shoulder. Turing her head to one side and allowing her cheek to rest more comfortably against his collarbone, tears are already beginning to well up. It registers in her mind only briefly that several muscles in his upper body seem to tighten as the clack of his mug on the kitchen table rings through the otherwise silent room. With his hand now free, Luka reaches out, running his fingers through her hair in his best attempt to offer comfort when he feels her small body begin to shake.
Leaning on him at this angle, she can just begin to make out the rhythmic beating of his heart. Somehow, the pace strikes her as a little too quick to match the calm manner with which he interacts with her. Could it be nerves? Still gently running a hand through her hair, the guitarist quietly offers words of empathy. His hot fingers gently brush against her scalp. His other hand, as yet unoccupied, falls upon her shoulder, the heat of his grip searing. This is the moment the flood gates finally crack open, the stoppered words she's been struggling to say for far too long surging out unfiltered.
"It's so exhausting…every day hurts...so much..." She finally manages though a sob. Despite her shaking shoulders and shuddering breaths, she doesn't miss the way the gentle stroking of her hair has ceased as he gently pulls her body in closer. Both hands now around her shoulders, the man freezes up for a second, considering his options. His face burns as he realizes just exactly how any of his actions could be interpreted right now, yet he still wants desperately to show affection to someone so important seeking comfort from him. Would it seem untoward of him? Uncertain, he begins slowly massaging small circles into one of her shoulders.
Goosebumps raise up on her arms as the pressure of his fingertips against her back increases before the soothing ministrations begin. The sudden heat that rushes up the back of her neck and over her ears could likely be a result of the sobs wracking her body, but she knows herself better than that. She knows there's really only one reason this embrace is so warm, and it's not a result of any tears.
"Marin…" She doesn't intend to cut him off, but a sudden and unbidden burst of sobs silences the young man.
"Every day is so hard…I try and I do…a-and I give and I just c-can't…being ignored when I need help...always in trouble...it hurts so m-much...god, you must think...I'm so..." His gentle embrace shifts suddenly into a sharp squeeze, the young man seizing his turn to silence her sloppily vocalized thoughts. His calloused fingers continue the controlled massage against her upper back. Heat that had settled over her nose and cheeks seems to only intensify. Her heart rate picks up. It's surely not the time or place for such thoughts, but his arms around her have felt more secure, more warm, or more perfect than how they feel in this moment. Even in spite of all the pain, a part of her feels so safe and secure. 'Hardly my first time feeling like this around him...' She tries with little success to throw the idle thought onto the back burner along with the rest of her thoughts that are not suited to the time or place.
Both hands leave their place on her shoulder blades, moving up to rest on the ball of each shoulder. After a breath to steady his nerves, Luka pushes her back abruptly. Her reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks steal his breath. His heart lurches in his chest with the desire to somehow chase all of her as yet unspoken troubles away. Unable to string together any grand speech as he looks into her blue bell eyes, the guitarist simply says words in the order they come into his mind. "Don't worry about what I think. I promise you, you never have to worry about that. I'm here…whatever I can do, I will. Complain, cry, be angry...just do whatever you need until you feel better."
If his gentle verbal encouragement had been enough to shatter her hesitation to voice her troubles earlier, these spoken words and holding his reassuring gaze banishes any remaining doubts her mind wants to hold onto. Why had she ever been worried about what may come of her open invite? There is no longer a need to worry over such things as coercion or sabotage. She's no longer in the environment where she must always wear a poker face. No longer around the people she always puts on airs for. Perhaps more calming than either of those thoughts, though, it that it is Luka sitting here with her. At the end of the day, she knows he speaks the truth. Of all the people on Earth, he's the last person she has to wear a mask in front of. Warmed by this thought, she leans her forehead down onto his shoulder once more and completely gives herself over to the anguish, turmoil, anger and frustration that has been mounting over the last several months. And boy does it feel incredible to lean on his shoulder and let all that pain out.
"I clean up for other people every day and still get accused of not being a team player. The people in charge ignore how my boss is acting…and they told us the dogs and cats are merchandise…" The emotions this statement alone dredges up are far too raw to detail this any further without the pain becoming overwhelming. But it is quite liberating to verbalize some of her experiences. It is the first tiny prickling feeling of beginning to heal the young woman has been able to achieve in months, and she spends a few seconds relishing the freeing sensation it brings. Swallowing harshly, she presses on. "Patrons and adopters treat me like I'm hurting the animals. And I start to think 'maybe they're right about me' when I realize I can't help. I just never realized…how difficult this kind of job is." The word difficult is what she chose, but it a simple matter to discern that it doesn't do justice to her situation. The harsh reality of her admission hits like a tidal wave. The heartache is palpable with each word she utters against his shoulder. He was right that this is no simple 'bad day,' but the sheer depth of anguish is mind-boggling.
Both arms fall into place around her shoulders once more. His calloused musician's hand returns to it's place and once again picks up the action of rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder blade and allows her to give voice to her complaints. Sensing how healing this exchange has become for her, he'd rather not disrupt the moment with unnecessary jargon. The only important words at this point are the ones she wants to speak. Right now, he need only be present to offer support.
When the girl nuzzles into his collarbone in a way that suggests she may be seeking more affection, he can't stop his automatic reaction of clamping down like a clam shell, holding her upper body flush. It is the second time in the span of a few minutes that he's held her in such an intimate way. Her body is so close the man can feel the immediate stiffening of her back and forearms for a split second before the designer settles into the contact. Maybe he's overstepping her boundaries, but he can't resist the urge to show more affection when it seems to be being solicited. At least not with this particular girl. Not now, when she needs to know there is someone always on her side.
His ears burn as her hands slowly envelop his torso. Clearly, he read her actions correctly. Her small fingers are shaking and warm, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Clinging to him like a child, she manages a few more complaints through sobs and trembling breaths.
"I got…ca-called…to the office again…I don't know what…I'm doing wrong…" Swallowing back her sobs in order to get the words out, she enjoys the continued soft ministrations of his hand on her shoulder. "I had to clean up for…some…one…else again. Then get yelled at f-for being too slow. When I try to point out what's wrong…I get told I'm imagining things. I do everything one person can do in a day…and still get told I'm lazy…I just...don't know what to do anymore..." Trailing off when she feels some snot beginning to trail down from her nose, Marinette backs out of the embrace.
Noting her embarrassment and discomfort, Luka snatches a few napkins from the middle of the dining table and hands them to her wordlessly. Casting his gaze away to give her some privacy, the man waits while she blows her nose. Heat still prickling at his nose and cheeks, he must admit his disappointment at the loss of that embrace. He'd be very unlikely to ever speak the words aloud, but in his head at least, he's okay with acknowledging the idea that he would have liked the hug to continue.
It takes a few minutes of silence while she cleans herself up for him to be able to glance over at her again and notice that her body language has become far less tense. Her blue bell eyes seem to have some vibrancy to them again. Her face is not nearly so pale and grief-wracked. A long, deep breath in and an airy exhalation follow as he studies her in silence. Setting the used napkins aside, she sniffs one final time before lining her gaze up with his once again. A grateful expression sweeps over her features, her lips turning up into a halfhearted smile. He keeps his eyes trained on her, returning her content and grateful smile with small crooked grin of his own.
"Thanks Luka," Her hand gently comes to rest on top of his, making his heart do a little flip in his chest. "You're…" Her words fail her for a second as crystal clear disappointment flashes behind those aquamarine eyes. It would seem whatever filtered version of her thoughts she had been about to voice would not have been pleasing for him to hear. It's hardly the first time she's caught that very small display of emotion, and more and more, it's starting to pique her curiosity. Perhaps it's that filter he doesn't care for. So, she temporarily tosses it aside, choosing to be braver for mostly the sake of her own curiosity. Marinette simply must know. How will he respond to a slight splash of honesty? It takes a second or two to regain composure to speak again, and when she does, the words tumble out with surprising ease. "…really pretty amazing…"
The incredulous and ever-so-slightly pleased expression that settles on his features not only satisfies her curiosity, it unleashes an entire colony of butterflies in her stomach. There is no time to dwell on the mounting affection welling within her chest before she is leaning in and placing a chaste kiss, a touch of her lips lighter than a breath of air, on the young man's cheek. The hand that had been resting atop his seems to move as if under its own will, her rogue fingers raking through the dark hair at the base of his skull in a fleeting moment of shared enjoyment before her hand falls back into her lap. The rising of goosebumps down his neck as she pulls away would be plainly visible if she could bring her eyes to rest upon him, but instead her gaze falls to the floor between her feet as her nerves get the better of her. It's only as she settles back into her seat that the reality of what she just did hits her and the uni student's cheeks burn as she forces herself to sheepishly glance up at her companion, in case the need to apologize for being forward should arise.
Initially stunned, Luka feels that sensation slowly fade and begin to be replaced with a potent mixture of joy and relief. He can't remember a time he didn't harbor romantic feelings for the woman sitting in front of him. For the longest time, those feelings were one-sided and she was already in a happy and committed relationship. But when her boyfriend ultimately had to leave the country for his career and she had just entered into her first semester of university, they had broken things off, both recognizing they would not have the time or the ability to make it work long distance. During this difficult time for her is when the friendship between Marinette and himself really began to solidify into something more than a friendly hello when bumping into one another in public. Though they had been closer in the past, the two only occasionally interacted once they'd moved into adulthood. A friendly hello in the grocery store, a wave if passing one another in the street was really as far as it went.
They only exchanged updated numbers after running into one another in the grocery store one day a few months after her ex-boyfriend's departure. Spending time together in person happened mostly by accident in the beginning, but when they began re-exploring mutual interests and found they had similar senses of humor, outings began being planned. In their mutual free time, he'd come over with games, movies or snacks and they'd spend days in lost in the combat of a video game or quietly enjoying a movie with some popcorn and beers. They'd go out together and get food or browse book stores or game and music shops. She'd show up at his apartment with freshly baked snacks from her parent's bakery or spend an afternoon bantering with him via text.
During the beginning of this blossoming friendship is when she picked up the job at the animal shelter. The sharp decline in her energy and frequent dour moods made it obvious something was wrong within a few weeks. At first it was difficult to discern if she was simply exhausted from a combination of work and school or if something more sinister was going on behind the scenes. But as the number of 'bad days' at work began to increase and she began to retreat inside herself more and more -trying to conceal whatever turmoil she was going through- the more he realized it was a direct result of this work she was doing. He had offered to help a number of times up to now, recognizing her distress as something in need of urgent addressing. To his dismay, he would always be dismissed, Marinette offering flimsy reasoning such as being too tired or it all being his imagination.
Through it all, Luka always tried to remain conscientious of the difference in their feelings toward one another. To him, she was a crush from his school days that blossomed into a first love and over time became the only one he could see himself caring for so deeply. To her, he was a cute friend from adolescence who was kind and reliable, a friend she adored, but clearly never harbored any romantic inclinations toward. Aside from growing apart with age, relationships and responsibilities cropping up as they grew into adults, not too much about that teenage dynamic had changed. She was starting uni, then working her way through heartbreak, then wading through the trials of this new job. There never was a clear point at which she was ready to begin looking for new love. And he simply was not willing to force his feelings onto someone else. He liked her, maybe even loved her, but he also respected her enough to not want to burden her already troubled mind with his romantic expectations.
Suddenly, every rule he thought he'd been bound to operating under for the last however many some odd years is gone in a matter of little more than two minutes. With that quietly uttered comment and the soft yet obviously pointed peck on his cheek, he feels justified in believing that something is different for her now. To some degree, she must have mutual interest in him. The realization hits hard, his breath hitching as he absently follows her nervous foot tapping with his eyes. A soft smile directed at no one in particular filling his features, Luka extends his arm, threading his fingers through hers. Without realizing it, he finds his eyes falling upon her face once more, as if he is unconsciously seeking to see her expressions. The sight of her surprised blue eyes darting down to their entwined fingers before they once again rise to meet his brings a grin caught somewhere between amusement and gratification to his lips.
Two pairs of bright blue eyes remain aligned for but a second before the temptation to take in the many other details of this moment proves too great for him to resist. A very notable shade of red highlights her bemused features. Her lower lip suddenly is tugged into her mouth, caught between two rows of teeth. How a combination of excitement, curiosity and pure joy slowly begin to replace the startled gleam in those blue eyes. The rapidly forming idea he has inside his own mind that his expression, manner and feelings are finally quite similar to hers. His fingers tighten around hers as he feels himself unconsciously leaning in to the point where his elbows rest atop his knees. One final connection of eye contact allows for an unspoken question to pass from Luka to Marinette as if by some sort of telepathy. Laced through his, her fingers press into the skin between each knuckle, in a silent yet enthusiastic display of encouragement. As if any one single movement could destroy it all, Luka closes the distance carefully and places his lips over hers. It's a soft kiss, fleeting and innocent even, and somehow it's still everything to him. Similarly, Marinette is overjoyed and struggles not to squirm with delight. The silence of the room is filled with the ticking of the clock on her wall and the fierce beating of two hearts.
Moving back, he reaches out with his free hand and softly brushes his thumb along the side of her face, only now realizing her eyes are still a bit red from crying. Wincing as images of her small body wracked with sobs flash through his mind's eye and the sound of her voice as she tried desperately to convey the breadth of her despair plays like a tape recorder inside his brain, he takes a deep breath. Guilt hits him like a slap to the back of the head. Had he really just taken advantage of her vulnerability? As much as addressing the kiss now would ease his anxieties about a possible romantic future for them, the focus needs to shift back to her. The entire reason he came here is to try to support her. Disappointed by his own thoughtlessness, he retracts his hand, scooting back in his chair and breaking all physical contact.
"I brought a couple of presents with me," He tells her in a matter-of-fact tone, getting to his feet and heading toward the door, "Hang on a sec."
Her worried eyes follow the young guitarist as he makes his way down the hall that leads to her front door as she remains rooted to her seat, utterly confused. He acts as if he wants more from her, then seems happy to be given affection, then kisses her and now he appears to want to pretend as if nothing happened. He even went so far as to immediately get up and leave the room all together. 'What if he regrets it?' Her mind taunts. 'Maybe even Luka is able to be swept up in a moment. Or at least...what I thought was a moment.' Great, just freaking great. Like she needs another contributor to her stress.
Despite this, when he returns with a couple of grocery bags containing a few Ghibli movies, snacks, a 2 liter of coke and a bottle of black rum, she finds herself relegating that worry to a back burner. What sounds better at the end of a long day than a stiff drink, some good food, a fun movie and the best possible company? Even if said company wants to ignore the current situation for whatever reason. She cleans up the mess they left on the kitchen table, the forgotten mugs of tea now cold are picked up along with her used napkins and tossed. Her friend? Romantic interest? Acquaintance who she just happened to kiss? Well, he works on mixing their drinks and setting out the snacks. When he asks her to come choose a movie, she shambles awkwardly toward the coffee table and sorts through the five choices, finally deciding on Kiki. Luka settles on the couch behind her as she loads the disc and sets up the blue Ray player. Butterflies swarm once more in her stomach.
A discernible stiffness to her movements, she makes her way around the coffee table and settles into the spot next to the boy. Nervously, she sneaks a quick peek at Luka, an action that only serves to further heighten her nerves. Not only does he appear unaffected by the events of the evening, but his body language is overall relaxed as he props his feet up on the coffee table and sips his mixed drink. Feeling a little discouraged, she trains her eyes on the TV as the film gets under way, retrieves her own beverage and takes a few long swigs. If this keeps up, it'll be a long night for sure and her nerves could stand to be a little less strung out.
He can't even pretend he hasn't noticed her unease since the beginning of the movie. She has been extremely conscious of him, before the first drink had been poured. Glancing down at the girl, he can clearly see that deep knot in her brow. The worry shines in her eyes as she takes a long drink. Her fingers tap repetitively on the couch cushion beside her knee as she attempts to keep her eyes on the screen. That kiss, enjoyable though it was for him, was a terrible miscalculation on his part. Even if her feelings for him have changed somehow, he shouldn't have brought his romantic interests into the mix tonight. All it's done is upset the poor woman even more. Plucking the remote from the coffee table, he taps the pause button. How could he possibly ignore such obvious unease? To make matters worse, when he does turn to her, that same unease increases ten fold. So much for trying to maintain a positive outlook on the outcome of this upcoming conversation.
"You can tell me honestly," He begins, taking note of the speed with which she glances up at him, "Did that kiss make you uncomfortable? I won't be ups-" Before the final word is even fully formed, the young woman next to him is speaking.
"No. It didn't." Her words are definitive, but her eyes and body language still convey some worry. "D-did...you not like it? It felt...sorta...kinda...like you wanted to get away from me after..."
Oh. Oh. Her thought process is crystal clear now. Well damn.
Swiftly wrapping one arm around around her shoulder and pulling the woman in against his side, Luka leans his cheek against the top of her head. As he feels one of her small hands come to rest atop his leg, he clears his throat and speaks up. "Sorry." A short and yet somehow still incredibly sincere apology. "I didn't mean to give you that impression. I should'eve explained things. I honestly felt guilty kissing you when you were so vulnerable. I really was..." well, it's not liked he's suddenly stopping being on cloud nine, "Am. I really am happy, though. You don't even know how long-" Abruptly his words falter and die in the air between them. For reasons she can't know, he doesn't wish to continue and it doesn't much matter. The words already spoken were more than enough.
Initially too shocked by the ardent tone he'd just used to address her to form a proper response, Marinette simply snuggles in against the left side of his body. Heat sears her cheeks. It may as well have been a straightforward 'I have always loved you.' Her fingers press down into the spot where they rest on his leg. The weight of his cheek atop her head vanishes and she finally sneaks a glance at her companion. His ears and cheeks are tinged with a light pink color as he turns to meet her eyes again.
"I...love you." All poetic pretense and flowery impassioned speech are cast aside in favor of simple, honest and direct language.
The clear and concise words hit just right. Though the aspiring designer can hardly say she's prepared to make such a bold declaration herself, she knows her feelings for him are romantic in nature and have likely been so for some time. This leaves her in a bit of a box when it comes to responding. "I-I..." Is there a good way to explain her point of view? To flatly tell him 'I don't think I can say I love you' sounds flippant and, at least in her own mind, denotes the idea that she isn't sure she even can or ever will. Not exactly something she wants him believing. While the young woman may not know how to define her feelings at this time, she doesn't want to come off as lacking the will to learn how to identify her emotions. Those azure eyes remain connected to hers as he allows his free hand to gently come to rest atop the hand she had placed on his leg. "I...care about you a l-lot. I want to...be with you...b-but..." And thus the trusty nervous stutter appears to have made it's return.
"You don't have to be sure about everything," Luka assures the flustered woman, his grip tightening both around her shoulder and around the slender fingers above his knee. Once again, without need of her voicing her insecurities in so many words, the musician had known how to shoo them away. "If you're happy and you want this too..." Pausing to provide an opportunity for his companion to offer her own thoughts, he awaits any reply she is willing to give -albeit, slightly less patiently than a moment or so ago. After all this time believing his feelings would only ever be one-sided, of course he's eager to get any kind of affirmation from her that this is no longer the case. After only a second or two she nods, threading the fingers of her right hand through his. A content smile plays on his features as all of his earlier anxieties melt away. Blue bell eyes show no sign of doubt and a small flickering of relief passes through Luka's eyes before he concludes his thoughts. "...Then that's enough for now." Giving her shoulder one final squeeze, his half-embrace falls slack. "We can talk about things more later. Right now, I just want you to feel okay."
Letting go of her hand as their locked eyes finally part ways, he picks up the remote and hits play to resume the movie. Smiling to herself as she watches the screen and melts into the warmth of Luka's gentle affection, Marinette can't help but think that despite every bad day up until now, this is the most okay she's felt in months.
Sofa bed now folded out, she and Luka are nestled comfortably under the comforter she yanked from the mattress in her bedroom. His chest is pressed into her back as she lays on her left side with his arms gently wrapped around her. Spent from the emotional roller coaster that had been this entire freaking day, Marinette's eyes are heavy as she relaxes into her pillow. As she feels sleep beginning to set in, the guitarist decides to speak up.
"Hey..." His tone is a bit muted, suggesting he may also be on the edge of unconsciousness.
"Mmhmm?" She huffs out, the effort of making the noise seemingly so much more difficult while drowsy.
"You don't have to keep working there." Tone now decidedly more firm, he has her full attention in seconds.
"You mean give up?" Never one to back down from a fight, she doesn't like the idea of being a quitter.
"I mean do what's best for your mental health." His arms tighten for only a second or two before relaxing once more. She hears him inhale at length and then exhale slowly, and curious enough to momentarily forget her tiredness, flips over to face him. His striking blue eyes open to reveal a countless number of emotions, not the least of which being a fierce yearning. But for what? Her? Awestruck, she bites down on her lip as he begins speaking once again. "It's been awful watching you feel worse and worse every day, and I really hated not being able to help until now. But if you do decide to leave this place, don't do it because of me or what I think. Do it because you deserve a place to work that makes you happy, where you enjoy your job and they treat you with some decency..." Filled with overwhelming gratitude and affection at his speech, Marinette can't manifest any word or action that seems appropriate in response, so she waits in stunned silence to hear what he might say next, if anything. "...and..." His voice, which had sounded so assured only a moment ago is now restrained, hesitant even.
"And?" The bluenette speaks up after a moment, puzzled at his sudden reluctance to continue.
A moment passes in which he seems to study her, the resolve in his expression slowly building back up. Her heart pounds in her chest, suddenly held spell-bound within the young man's heated gaze. She feels his hot fingers seize and fidget with a small cluster of wrinkles in the back of her shirt. His face is definitively quite flushed as he opens his mouth a final time.
"And if for whatever reason nothing else works out, I'll happily take care of you while you're in school." Fingers quickly release her clothing and his arm draws away, his hand now instead covering his very flushed face.
Ecstatic at his words and astounded by his display of embarrassment, the fashion fan feels an uncontrollable grin take over her features. Her arms are around him before she has even thought about how to respond, squeezing the man with every bit of the elation she's feeling pouring into the embrace. After a few moments like this, the woman finally releases him and snuggles into the guitarist's chest. "Thank you Luka...just thank you...for everything." As he mumbles a sheepish reply she can't help but think that if she isn't already head over heels for this person, falling in love with him will be the easiest thing in the world to do.
The following Monday at work, the blue-haired woman hands in her notice.